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You Can't Blame Me. I Mean That Literally. You're Incapable Of Blaming Me. You're Human. Being Human Is Choosing Freedom Over Imprisonment, Autonomy Over Dependency, Liberty Over Servitude. You Can't Blame Me Because You Know (come On, Man, You've Always Known) That The Idea Of Spending Eternity With Nothing To Do Except Praise God Is Utterly Unappealing. You'd Be Catatonic After An Hour. Heaven's A Swiz Because To Get In You Have To Leave Yourself Outside. You Can't Blame Me Because -- Now Do Please Be Honest With Yourself For Once -- You'd Have Left, Too.

-Glen Duncan

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You Can't Blame Me.

Glen Duncan

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You Can't Blame Me. I Mean That Literally. You're Incapable Of Blaming Me. You're Human. Being Human Is Choosing Freedom Over Imprisonment, Autonomy Over Dependency, Liberty Over Servitude. You Can't Blame Me Because You Know (come On, Man, You've Always Known) That The Idea Of Spending Eternity With Nothing To Do Except Praise God Is Utterly Unappealing. You'd Be Catatonic After An Hour. Heaven's A Swiz Because To Get In You Have To Leave Yourself Outside. You Can't Blame Me Because -- Now Do Please Be Honest With Yourself For Once -- You'd Have Left, Too.

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If Im Going To Invest The Time In A Novel, I Want Something More Than The Entertainment You Get Out Of Most Genre Fiction.

I Don’t Know Where The Universe Came From Or What Happens To Creatures When They Die. I Don’t Know If The Whole Thing’s An Unravelling Accident Or An Inscrutable Design. I Don’t Know How One Should Live—but I Know That One Should Live, If One Can Possibly Bear It.

Your Ideal Possession Candidate's A Thirteen-year-old Recently Orphaned Schizophrenic Girl Three Days Away From Her Period On Her Way To See The Shrink With Whom She's Romantically Besotted.

When I See Gurgling Retarded Children (that's God's Doing, By The Way, Not Mine) Happily Styling Their Hair With Their Own Stinking Mards, I Think Of Adam In Those Pre-marital Days. I Know He's Your Great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad And All - But I'm Afraid He Was Rather An Imbecile.

Any Seasoned Deal Maker Will Tell You That Spontaneous Negotiation's A Bad Strategy; The Ad Hoc Approach Will Leave You Ripped-off, Busted, Conned, Stiffed, Outsmarted And Generally Holding The Shitty End Of The Stick.

There’s A Reason Humans Peg-out Around Eighty: Prose Fatigue. It Looks Like Organ Failure Or Cancer Or Stroke But It’s Really Just The Inability To Carry On Clambering Through The Assault Course Of Mundane Cause And Effect. If We Ask Sheila Then We Can’t Ask Ron. If I Have The Kippers Now Then It’s Quiche For Tea. Four Score Years Is About All The Ifs And Thens You Can Take. Dementia’s The Sane Realisation You Just Can’t Be Doing With All That Anymore.

I Hated The Words. Each One Was Like A Big Live Insect In My Mouth.

The Flesh Had Infinity In It. I Must Know Every Inch By Touch Yet Every Inch Renewed Its Mystery The Instant My Hand Moved On. Delightful Endless Futility.

I Don't Remember The First Image Of A Werewolf I Saw, But I Suspect It Was The Hybrid Type, Up On Two Legs, With Long Limbs, Hair, Claw-like Fingernails And Lupine Head. To Me There's Nothing Scary About Complete Transformation From Human Into Wolf. Wolves Aren't Scary. They're Dangerous, Yes, But So Are Geese, In The Wrong Mood. What's Scary Is Seeing The Human In The Wolf But Knowing It's Beyond The Reach Of Reason Or Emotional Appeal. That's Where The Horror And Dread Kicks In.

This Is Love: You Stop Bothering About The Universal, The General, Get Sucked Instead Into The Local And Particular: When Will I See Her Again? What Shall We Do Today? Do You Like These Shoes? Theory And Reflection Are Delicate Old Uncles Bustled Out Of The Way By The Boisterous Nephews Action And Desire. Themes Evaporate, Only Plot Remains.

With Adolescent Egotism And A Lot Of Money One Can Pretty Much Rule The World.

I'm In Love, Truly, Madly, Deeply In Love With Perception.

Poets Suffer Occasional Delusions Of Angelhood And Find Themselves Condemned To Express It In The Bric-a-brac Tongues Of The Human World. Lots Of Them Go Mad.

No Artist Knows Everything... But Since Every Artist Knows More Than He Can Tell, All Art Is Lying By Omission.

No Amount Of Violence You've Done To Others Prepares You For Violence Done To Yourself.

Grace Only Exists To Be Fallen From.

I'm Too Conceited For Therapy.

Nothing Holds Love Together Like Shared Vice Or Collusive Perversion.

Time, You'll Be Pleased To Know--and Since One Must Start Somewhere--was Created In Creation. The Question What Was There Before Creation? Is Meaningless. Time Is A Property Of Creation, Therefore Before Creation There Was No Before Creation.

The Only Animal From Which Humans Have Nothing To Learn, In Fact, Is The Sheep. Humans Have Already Learned Everything The Sheep's Got To Teach.

Bliss Defies Description, Obviously, Since It Annihilates You, Since You're Not There To Experience It. You Get The Lead-up And The Come-down, Never The Zenith.

Pain Revealed The Paltry Dimensions Of Love. The Paltry Dimensions Of Everything, In Fact, Except Pain.

Literature Is Humanity's Broad-minded Alter-ego, With Room In Its Heart For Monsters, Even For You. It's Humanity Without The Judgement.

Every Now And Then Life Sold You An Illusion Of Design. A Coincidence, A Parallel, A Sledgehammer Symbol. The Goods Were Always Faulty. You Forked Over The Cash Only To Discover They'd Fallen Apart By The Time You Got Home. But Life Kept At It. Life Couldn't Help It. Life Was A Compulsive Salesman.

For You, My Darlings, Freedom To Do What You Like Is The Discovery Of How Unlikable What You Like To Do Makes You. Not That That Stops You Doing What You Like, Since You Like Doing What You Like More Than You Like Liking What You Do... [lucifer]

Kneecaps Only Exist To Get Hit With Claw-hammers; Grace Only Exists To Be Fallen From.

My Parents Believe In The Happy Endings To The Stories Of Their Children.

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You Think God Will Never Forgive You, But The Only God Is Beauty And Beauty Always Forgives. It Forgives With Its Infinite Indifference.

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Nicotine And Alcohol Embraced In My System Like Long-parted Siblings, Grateful To Me For Reuniting Them.

Falling In Love Makes The Unknown Known. Falling Out Of Love Reverses The Process.

Falling In Love

I'm With Milton And The Rolling Stones: I Don't Find The Devil An Unsympathetic Character. But In Any Case, My Fiction Is Populated As Much By People Who Do Good As It Is By Those Who Do Bad. I'm Interested In Imaginatively Accommodating As Much Of The Human As Possible, For Which You Need Both Moral Extremes And Everything In Between.

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Life Compulsively Dangled The Possibility Of Life. Life, The Dramatist On Speed. Life, That Couldn't Stop With Its Foreshadows And Ironies And Symbols And Clues, Its Wretched Jokes And False Endings And Twists. Life With Its Hopeless Addiction To Plot.

That's The Problem With Being Alive ... You've Got To Keep Thinking Of What To Do.

Home Pulls. It Draws You Back To Tell You You Don't Belong.

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You Love Life Because Life's All There Is.

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Peace Is Purchased In The Currency Of Loss.

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I'm An American. We're A People Diseased With Progress.

The First Horror Is There's Horror. The Second Is You Accommodate It.

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Pain Is Beyond Reason, An Obliterating Giant Stupidity To Which All Your History Of Jokes And Nuance And Ideas And Caresses Is Nothing, Simply Nothing.

There Is No God And That's His Only Commandment.

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I'll Tell You Something,' She Said. 'i'm Not Sure I Ever Really Liked Him.' Adam?' I Said. 'i Don't Blame You.' 'not Adam,' She Said, Struggling To Swallow A Greedily Chomped Chunk. 'god.

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That's What Happens When You Keep A Secret From Someone You Love: You Start To Hate Them For Allowing You To Prove Your Own Willingness To Deceive Them.

Coffee Justifies The Existence Of The Word 'aroma'.

Snow Makes Cities Innocent Again, Reveals The Frailty Of The Human Gesture Against The Void.

Telling The Truth Is A Beautiful Act Even If The Truth Itself Is Ugly.

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